


Sue Me, Latin's Hot

by cyncitymojo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Come Marking, Edgeplay, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Exorcisms, Latin Kink, M/M, Priest Kink, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17246138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyncitymojo/pseuds/cyncitymojo
Summary: Created for a prompt from my good friend:Every time Sam recites the Exorcism, Dean MUST have him immediately!Latin is HOT!





	Sue Me, Latin's Hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jerzcaligrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerzcaligrl/gifts).



> I had originally pictured Dean being uncontrollably turned on and ravaging Sam in a church (yep, I'm a naughty blasphemer), but my mind ended up elsewhere. Anyway, I hope you like it chica!

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satánica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabólica, ergo draco maledicte, ut ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libértate serviré, te rogamus, audi nos!"

Sam read the vanquishing words with the smooth confidence of a baritone blues singer in his prime. If Dean hadn’t known better, he might have paused to make sure Sam wouldn’t vanish by way of his own unearthly prowess. His voice alone was one thing, the subtle growl of persistence that underscored his intense focus, but the way he made Latin sound was hypnotic.

***

Dean had taken notice each time. Since the boys got the band back together, the demons weren’t the only ones who stopped, mystified, to pay attention to Sam’s orations. Then, they futilely realized they were being ejected from their human hosts and banished back to Hell. It was the only time Dean was able to take a breath during a hunt.

Enraptured, Dean would watch Sam’s lips move with conviction until the last bit of black smoke was swept from the room. He would barely refrain from losing himself to the feeling of his pulse racing and his blood supply diverting away from his extremities. The high he’d experience each time was so much more than adrenaline.

Dean would force his brain back online to make sure Sam was alright, clean up any mess from the hunt, and drive back to wherever they were bunking for the night. Often enough the backseat of the Impala ended up being the stop. Dean would pull over, unable to keep his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel. As careful as they tried to be, they’d ruined a few disguises that way. Dean would manhandle Sam into the backseat, pulling at whatever he’d been wearing. The next day the carnage from ripped button downs, or trousers with missing buttons and popped zippers, would be glaring reminders of Dean’s loss of control.

Heaven forbid they needed to don the rosaries, priest cassocks, and bibles. Each case where the little white collars made an appearance, Dean would keep the outfit out for at least a week after the hunt was done. He’d play every role he could imagine, from scandalous vicar from the seminary school to tortured, conflicted cleric who was new to the priesthood and easily seduced.

After he’d caught on, Sam never got tired of giving his big brother exactly what he needed. He’d even started collecting popular Catholic prayers in Latin to drive Dean even further up the wall. The irony of the brothers committing a cardinal sin while roleplaying religious blasphemy was not lost on either of them.

***

This time, after the hunt, Sam rushed ahead to the motel while Dean stayed behind to conclude their business with the local clergy. He’d said that this possession had really drained him, and he just wanted to get some rest before moving to the next town. Dean, in his concern, had sobered up from his usual trance and agreed to talk to their witnesses to conclude everything.

As Dean arrived at the room a couple hours later, he worried about whether Sam reading demons their last rights all the time was taking a toll. The elder brother in him felt a bit guilty about his mainly selfish reasons for not taking on the task more often. Then, he noticed the faint, pulsing glow emanating from the curtained window to their room. Initially, he was a bit panicked because fire had never been their friend. He silently rushed to the door and crept into the room.

The sight that greeted his tired eyes immediately reawakened them.

The table where they normally did their research or ate lunch was covered in a red velour cloth. Ivory candles of various heights were grouped on a plain, square tray. Most were aflame, but in order to resemble the prayer area at the Catholic church, some were left unlit. There were a few chopsticks laid out in front of them as makeshift versions of the long matches used to light a candle when dedicating a prayer to a loved one.

The room was cleared of their duffels and any other clutter. Sam had somehow acquired a deep red, plush runner that led from the door to where he knelt, completely nude. All he had on was the rosary intertwined through his fingers, dangling from his wrists. The cross directed Dean’s gaze like an arrow to the apex between his younger brother’s slightly spread knees and muscular thighs. To the only altar Dean would ever worship.

Sam’s hands were clasped together in the pose of prayer and Dean’s pupils dilated at the thought of tying those hands together and stretching those long arms above his head. Sam’s body would stretch and arch long and lean, showing his full glory. But first, he had to reach Sam. His fingers twitched as he struggled to hold back, letting Sam take the lead this time.

The younger man had his head down, long brown tresses hiding his face. He tilted his face up slightly, peering through his bangs.

“Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi prohibere ... et ego nolo,” he began without being prompted.  
_(Forgive me, Father for I have sinned... and I don't want to stop.)_

Dean froze in his tracks as he was brought back to the symphony that was Sam seeking absolution in Latin. The older man stopped wondering where and how Sam had gotten everything into the room and slipped into the role of an esteemed rector receiving confession from a penitent man.

“Is it vindication you seek, young sinner, or permission?” he asked, eyes reflecting the golden candlelight.

"Consecration." Sam slowly lifted his head, meeting Dean's fiery gaze with his own. He steadily held it as he gently tightened the rosary around his wrists with a tug from his lips. He gracefully rose to his feet, approached Dean, and draped his bound arms around the back of the elder man’s neck.

Dean cleared his throat before replying, his voice rasping with desire, “Well… it is my purpose in life to serve and assist those in need.”

“Will you bless me, Monsignor?” Sam practically purred.

Dean kissed the sign of the cross into Sam’s beautiful, youthful face. He started at his forehead, moved down to his lips, and completed the move by caressing his left, then right eyelids. He shuddered at the feel of Sam’s eyelashes, and Sam shivered at the ministration he received.

“Shall I pray, Father?” Sam knew he had Dean’s full attention then. The tentpole in his pants twitched, and he groaned at its constriction.

“Fuck yes,” he moaned, his priestly visage slipping. Sam saying anything in Latin made him completely lose his cool.

“Dean Winchester, qui est coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Et venerunt semper, fiat voluntas tua, sicut nunc erit in perpetuum.”  
_(Dean Winchester, who is my heaven, hallowed be thy name. I’ll always come, thy will be done, now as it will be forever.)_

Dean growled, grasping Sam just under his ass and hoisting him up so he’d wrap his long, lithe legs around his waist. The move merely teased him with its barely there friction. Dean walked them over to the hotel bed as he nipped and licked at Sam’s neck and chest. Sam’s breath hitched each time Dean’s lips hit his collarbone and one of his nimble fingers lightly prodded his asshole.

“Sanctifica mihi Pater ad calorem amoris tui. Audire me facies tua Spiritus Sancti,” the young hunter breathlessly recited.  
_(Sanctify me Father with the heat of your love. Fill me with your Holy Spirit.)_

Dean quickly figured out that Sammy was playing dirty with his words tonight. He nearly combusted and he wasn’t even out of his Holy disguise yet. Sam smirked down at him, then threw his head back and moaned as Dean’s tease grew more insistent. He was torn between wanting to take his cock out and defiling Sam where they stood, or taking him apart until he was speaking in tongues. The latter option won out.

As Dean lay the source of his temptation down on the bed, he slinked forward on his hands and knees, stalking Sam like a tiger with cornered prey as he smoothly slid himself back toward the headboard. He took special care in spreading the young man out before him. He ran his heated palms over every inch he could reach from Sam’s neck all the way to his ankles.

He squeezed Sam’s feet with reverence, eyes appreciating his naked work of art before he began to strip. He moved with purpose, never taking his eyes off the prize except to reach in the bedside table drawer. Sam was positioned with his arms out to the side, one knee bent. His amazing mane was splayed in a halo around his head. He looked every bit like a clean-shaven, yet very sultry model of Christ.

“Ne nos inducas in tentationem, et in perpetuum a nobis praeceptum dimittere.  
_(Lead us forever into temptation and release us from inhibition.)_

Sam concluded his blasphemous prayer, slowly dragging his hands down his heaving chest, one stopping to pinch and tweak a nipple. The other continued down his chiseled torso, through his treasure trail, and wrapped around his fevered, hard length.

Before Sam could even begin the slow, teasing stroke he intended, Dean appeared at the side of the bed and grasped his wrist with an iron grip. Deep and low he intoned, “Amen. You know, you should put this to use helping your fellow man. You know what they say about idle hands.” Hyper-focused, and free from the confines of his clothes and that infernal collar, Dean took Sam’s hand and guided it to his own pulsing, aching member.

The relieved sigh that escaped Dean’s lips was pornographic at the very least. Sam’s firm, scorching grip provided the older man some much-needed friction. As he rose onto his elbow and stroked the heavenly cock glistening with precome, Sam brought his mouth to Dean’s hip. He took his turn marking and soothing a trail to his other hip that had Dean panting as if he’d just run a marathon.

Dean reached for Sam’s knee to fully turn his body and Sam followed without missing a beat. He rolled onto his knees, arched his back, and stuck his pert, tight ass in the air while pulling Dean into his mouth and sliding him straight down his throat. He gagged slightly, which felt so amazing to Dean, he smacked his little brother right on the ass before squeezing the globe of his cheek. He spread Sam to watch the clench of his hole in reaction to his touch. Sam moaned as he bobbed his head, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through Dean as he caressed the lengthy line of his lover’s spine.

Sam extricated himself with a pop and a breathless shout as Dean’s lubed finger lightly stroked his quivering hole. If Sam hadn’t known where he was, he’d have sworn that was his tongue making his thighs quake. That always made him sweat like a sinner in church. But this was one of those rare times he wanted to remain in control for just a bit longer.

“Dean, let me. Please.” This was the first time in a while that Sammy wanted to take the lead. It thrilled Dean to the core and brought him even closer to the edge, so he straightened his stance and held his hands behind his back to keep them from distracting Sam.

Sam reclined back onto his side, leaning on his elbow to get comfortable. His free hand went to work with nimble fingers. He touched Dean’s muscled thighs and fondled his balls that had already pulled up tight. He went back to savoring Dean, sucking along his cock and tonguing around the head like it was the best damn popsicle he’d ever had.

Gathering the slick wetness that was now practically dripping from Dean’s scrotum, he snuck his long, slender fingers between Dean’s legs. He pressed firmly at his taint, sliding all the way back and shallowly breaching Dean. As the ring of muscle relaxed, Sam slid the digit in further. Dean began moving slowly, thrusting into Sam’s mouth and pushing himself back onto Sam’s finger.

The intensity of the pleasure he was receiving finally caused Dean’s eyes to roll back. He threw his head back and howled, “Ahhh, damnit Sammy! _Fuck yes!_ ”

Sam could feel Dean starting to squeeze and pulsate around his finger. He pulled off Dean’s cock and just lightly pressed his prostate and the man was coming, decorating Sam’s chest and abs with hot, searing streams of white. He gently removed his finger as he stroked Dean through his orgasm.

“So hot Dean, you’re beautiful when you lose control. C’mon, I’m not done with you just yet.” He palmed Dean’s lower back and hauled the pliant man down onto the bed beside him. Dean rolled onto his back, letting his legs go limp and fall wide open.

Sam cleaned himself off and then grabbed the lube that Dean had placed back on the bedside table and took a few seconds coating his cock while Dean caught his breath. He knelt between those thick, quivering thighs and massaged the skin and muscles from Dean’s knees up his waist to his chest. He leaned over Dean, kissing him deeply and tweaking his stiff nipples. He smoothed his lips down his jaw until he reached Dean’s ear.

“I really, _really_ wanna feel you inside me, Dean,” he whispered. “You felt so perfect and full in my throat, I wanna feel that deep in my ass. But first, I need to resurrect your cock.” Dean groaned as he felt the cool, slick head of Sam’s cock seeking entry. He’d been coasting on low waves of pleasure which had kept him in a half-hardened state. He knew anything that Sam did at this point would only heighten what he was feeling.

“Do it Sam. You’ve probably been on edge longer than I was.” He looked Sam in the eye and smirked, “I’ll return the favor when I’m ready.” Dean spread his legs further and reached between them to guide Sam in, not that he needed to. It was just hot and fun to hear the hiss that came from Sam as Dean gripped him tight.

Sam slowly sank into Dean, every muscle tense from trying not to just drill in and let loose. He was hell-bent on coming on Dean’s cock and milking him dry once again. He leaned back on his haunches as he penetrated Dean’s divine tightness, aiming for one small, yet powerful target. As he hit it, Dean’s back arched off the bed. Sam moved his hips with a sensual rhythm, massaging Dean’s prostate until he saw his cock once again, thick, flushed, and wet at the head.

Suddenly, Dean pulled a move they normally did while sparring. He dislodged Sam and flipped their positions so Sam was on his back. Sam would usually fight back, but this was what he was waiting for. He rolled with the movement and groaned when both their erections slid between them when Dean ended up straddling him.

Dean quickly shifted between Sam’s long, sinewy legs. He took both cocks in his hand and used the lube from Sam’s to slick himself up. He applied some from the bottle to Sam’s pretty little dusky pink opening. Then Dean steadily worked his way home. With his clean hand, he stroked Sam’s hair as he slid deeper into him, willing him to open his eyes.

Sam was relishing the feeling of being filled, the slight sting and pressure that brought just the right bit of pain to his pleasure. When Dean’s hips hit the backs of Sam’s thighs, the younger man opened his eyes and he was overtaken by the intense green of Dean’s shining orbs. He nodded and gasped when Dean started to move in earnest. His thrusts were fluid and fast, the sounds of skin making contact with skin flooding the silence in the room.

They were frantic with each other, hands roving, teeth and tongues marking and soothing wherever the made contact. There were countless grunts from Dean as Sam started up his dirty talk in Latin again between moans and groans. Both were close to the most earth-shaking orgasms of their lives.

“I’m so close, Dean. Oh, fuck yes. Miscere cum tibi anima mea. Veni mecum nostra corpora simul atque hoc ritu consecrabitur.”  
_(Mix your soul with mine. Come with me and anoint our bodies together.)_

Sam could feel Dean swell inside him before his muscles began to squeeze and a wave of indescribable pleasure hit him. Dean gave one last powerful thrust before he pulled out and again came all over Sam, marking him. He watched as both their streams of spend crossed, pooled and combined on Sam’s sweaty torso.

Before he collapsed on top of Sam, he reached out and drew the sign of the cross through the streaks on Sam’s chest and breathed out, “Gloria Patri et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum.” Then he fell, boneless, onto his brother.  
_(Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever.)_

Panting, satiated, and covered in sin, Sam breathily replied, “Amen.”

 

~ FIN ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, [Jessie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessie_cristo/pseuds/jessie_cristo), for beta reading. Sorry I couldn't wait for you to finish. I really was excited to get it out today. Any mistakes I promise are my own.


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